The First War on KORPS
by Imagine69
Summary: Ten years ago, Frank led a disastrous assault on KORPS HQ while Stella directed the attack from MI9 headquarters. The mission would have repercussions spanning over a decade. What exactly happened immediately before and after the assault, and how would MI9 recover from such a tragedy?
1. The assignment

_10 years ago_

'Agent Knight! Agent London!'

Frank and Stella had just been about to leave the briefing room, when the sharp voice of Chief Agent White caused them to stop dead in their tracks and spin around.

White was a serious man by nature, hardened by all his years in MI9 leadership. His hair was almost completely grey and his eyes were creased with decades worth of sleepless nights. Yet there was no mistaking the steel in his voice, especially now, at a time when the war against KORPS was coming to a climax.

White's two most senior agents were young, but the stress of the war was taking its toll of them too. Frank seemed to be forever wearing a frown to go with his tired expression. Stella, who had been a ray of sunshine months before, was now a very serious, focused young woman who tried to maintain some sort of control on things by throwing herself into the work, barely resting and hiding her exhaustion behind a few carefully placed strokes of eyeliner. It was a pity, White thought, for these were two of the most promising agents that MI9 had seen in years. In fact, the only time he'd seen them smile lately was in those rare moments when they sat in each other's company, working hard or perhaps catching a quick meal. When it was just the two of them, when they thought they weren't being watched - those were the only times they ever smiled.

'Agent Knight,' White addressed Stella, who stood stiff at attention. 'I would like you to remain at headquarters and coordinate the assault on KORPS HQ remotely.'

Stella's eyes widened. Once, she would have questioned the order, when she was inquisitive, when she had the energy to be curious. Now, she was all about fulfilling her duty with efficiency. 'Yes, sir.'

White then turned to Frank, who had a mixture of shock and relief on his face. 'Agent London, I would like you to lead the assault, if you are willing.'

'Absolutely, sir.'

'Very good. Dismissed.' White slipped past the two of them, and left the briefing room.

Frank and Stella was silent as they walked out of the room and downstairs towards their office. The only sounds were the tread of their footsteps on the sleek vinyl floors and the occasional 'ding' of their swipe cards as they passed access-restricted doors. Eventually, the squeak of their shows against vinyl ceased as they stepped onto the carpet of the office.

'I'm glad.' Frank finally spoke. 'You'll be perfect in the command role, and out of harm's way.' The inner edges of Frank's eyebrows seemed to lift a little, and the relief on his face was all too apparent now.

Stella didn't seem to be half as pleased. There was an angry undertone to her voice when she spoke, 'I should be leading the assault. Or at least on the team. I'm good in the field.'

'You're needed more at headquarters,' Frank replied, and from the sagging of Stella's shoulders, it was clear that she realised this too. Nevertheless, she wasn't thrilled with the idea of being shut away several miles from the action while her friends and colleagues risked their lives on such a dangerous mission.

Frank reached forward and gently placed a hand on Stella's elbow. He looked straight into her eyes, and all the steel and anger seemed to flow out of them as if purged by what she saw in Frank's eyes. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. 'Promise me you'll be okay.'

'You know I can't,' Frank said with a sigh. He touched her cheek, then moved his hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 'But I promise I'll try.'

In a most uncharacteristic move, Stella suddenly took a half-step forward and wrapped her arms around Frank's torso. Frank responded in kind and held her to him, breathing in the scent of her, feeling the warm of her, just in case it would be one of the last times her ever did.


	2. The night before the assault

The night before the assault, Stella stood beside the projector screen in the briefing room while the dozen or so members of the assault team sat around the tables and chairs, listening intently. Frank sat near the front, on a desk facing the side of the room so that he had a clear view of both Stella and the rest of the team.

'Once Frank secures the control room, he will direct you to arrest the targets,' Stella concluded. She glanced sideways at Frank, who nodded. He frowned a little at the fear and worry in her eyes. Stella was never afraid of a mission.

'Anything to add, Agent London?' Stella asked, turning to Frank. Several pairs of eyes turned towards him, including those of Stella's best friend, Hyperia.

'Yes, actually. Thank you, Agent Knight,' said Frank. He addressed his team. 'Team. You have all shown immense courage by volunteering for this mission. I commend you for it. It will be dangerous. There are no guarantees, and I'm sure you understand the enemy that KORPS is. We must remain ever-vigilant, because despite all the reconnaissance that we have done, they will always have some unexpected in store for us. But know this: we will defeat them. KORPS seek power above all else and that is their weakness. They are blind to so many forces in the world. They know not bravery, nor self-sacrifice, nor love.' He glanced sideways of Stella as he said this, seeing her eyes intent upon him as he spoke. 'We will win, and we will do it together. As a team.'

There was a smattering of applause. Stella was blinking rapidly as she took over the stage once more. 'Thank you, Agent London. Team dismissed.'

The team dissipated; several agents clapped Frank on the back as they passed. Hyperia lingered and approached her leaders. As Frank's second-in-command, she knew the mission and risks as well as anyone.

Hyperia approached Frank first, because Stella had her back turned and was currently turning off the projector, trying to surreptitiously wipe her eyes as she did so. 'Frank, I just want to say, just in case I don't get a chance before we go in tomorrow, that you're a great leader. You're brave and intelligent and I trust you.'

Hyperia's face was so solemn, so genuine that Frank felt his throat tighten a little. 'Thank you, Hyperia. And trust me when I say, there's no one else I'd rather have at my right hand.'

The ghost of a mischievous grin flitted across Hyperia's face, she said cheekily, 'Even Stella?'

Frank almost laughed. Trust Hyperia to lighten up even this deadly serious situation.

Stella had finished with the projector and chose this moment to join the conversation. 'He doesn't want me at his right hand because he doesn't want me to get hurt.' She almost spat out the last word.

Stella had never felt this way before. The conflicting emotions were becoming almost too overwhelming, so strong that they spilled over the walls that she had put up to try and separate the work-related from the personal. She was indignant at Frank's will to keep her out of harm's way, even though she knew it wasn't because he thought she couldn't handle herself. She was almost sick with worry about sending Frank, Hyperia and the team into KORPS HQ tomorrow, and terrified of the thought of losing either of them. Yet to hear Frank and Hyperia show such spirit and such bravery made her heart swell with love and pride. Of course, feeling proud of their willingness to put themselves in danger also made her a little guilty to feel this way - did some part of her subconscious wish them harm? Surely not. But she couldn't shake the feeling.

Frank had the grace to look a little abashed at Stella's words, and opened his mouth to clarify his meaning, but Stella continued. 'Stay safe, the two of you. I couldn't stand losing either of you.'

Hyperia smiled sadly and reached forwards to hug her friend. Frank watched the two girls embrace. They had been relying on each other since they'd met in training. Hyperia had been Stella's rock every time she worked herself too hard, every time she'd fought with Frank, every time she'd returned from a tough mission. Stella had done the same for Hyperia. Frank silently vowed to do everything within his power to bring Hyperia back safely.

The girls pulled apart and Stella urged Hyperia to get some rest before the early start the next morning. As Hyperia left the room, she glanced over her left shoulder at Frank and Stella, who were watching her leave. She smiled with a mixture of sadness and resolve, then turned and disappeared.

Frank and Stella turned to each other slowly. Then, as if pulled together be an invisible force, they both stepped forwards at the same time and their lips met. The kiss was brief, but rich with love and longing.

Stella wasn't bothering to hide her tears now, but let them roll down her cheeks to be wiped away by Frank's thumb. Her forehead was creased into a worried frown. Something in her gut told her that this mission was going to be costly beyond any other.

'Come back safely,' she said softly. She was gazing at Frank so intently, trying to memorise every detail just in case, that she didn't even care that her voice was tinged with vulnerability and desperation.

Frank pulled her close to him and whispered into her ear, his voice a little hoarse. 'I love you.'


	3. The assault on KORPS

A dim glow of orange lamps misted through the pitch-black darkness. All was silent.

Then, all at once, the thudding of footsteps and blinding, sweeping red search lights invaded the darkness, amid blaring alarms that threatened to alert the sleepy city to this pre-dawn disturbance.

Their leader pulled his face mask down and spoke to his second-in-command. 'Hyperia, get the team down to the main bunker. I'll take the control room.'

She nodded, and turned to her team, waving her right hand above her head as she order, 'Follow me.'

As they set off at a trot down the corridor, Frank ducked sideways into the control room and took out the single KORPS soldier with a careful shot. He moved straight to the computer, tapping a few keys to lock the area down and trap their targets. He felt that familiar rush of adrenaline that came with any MI9 raid, but ignored it. He needed to think clearly and stay focused.

'Move in and prepare for arrest,' Frank ordered through his radio, then added a warning. 'Proceed with caution. The area will be heavily defended.'

One floor above, Hyperia led the team through the corridors and into a wide open space. They met surprisingly little resistance.

As they entered the main bunker, her heart immediately dropped into her stomach and did a few somersaults for good measure. Towering above them was a huge rocket. A female computerised voice mocked them, 'Missile launch in 40 seconds.' She made a split-second decision.

'Keep going,' she said firmly. 'Find them.'

It was a mark of the team's respect for her that they obeyed without question. Ignoring the huge missile, the troops kept their weapons raised and continued forward in perfect formation.

Hyperia approached the missile and opened the control hatch. There was no mistaking the blinking letters on the screen. 'Destination, London,' she relayed the information through her radio. Her heart was hammering wildly but she ignored it.

Back in the main control room, Frank tapped frantically on the keys. He saw the blurry image of Hyperia standing beside the missile and his heart, too, began to pound madly within him.

'Frank, what's happening?' It was Stella's voice this time. She spoke urgently but kept her voice soft, not wanting to startle Frank.

Frank glanced around the control room wildly, desperately looking for a solution. His eyes fell on the dull red button on the control panel: blast doors.

Even while his brain whirred around in his head, searching frantically for an alternate solution, Frank knew in his heart what he would have to do. He pushed his emotions to the periphery of thought and focused on the rationality of his plan. He could seal the explosion by closing the blast doors, by Hyperia and the rest of the team would perish.

'I'm sorry Hyperia,' he said, as he explained what he was about to do.

Several miles away, Stella's heart lurched with panic. Deep down, she already knew that this was the only way but her first reflex was the protest. 'They'll all be incinerated!'

She regretted the words the moment they had left her lips. Frank was explaining the logic behind his decision through the radio; he was almost shouting.

'It's your choice, sir,' Hyperia said resolutely. Somewhere inside her, she realised that she had come to terms with her impending death the moment she had set eyes on the missile. It was for the greater good, and she would die with bravery.

Raising her right hand to her forehead, Hyperia stood straight at attention and looked into the security camera ahead of her through which Frank was watching her.

The world suddenly fell into slow motion. Frank's voice came through the radio again, this time barely more than a whisper, 'It's for the greater good.' Stella cried out almost at the same time: 'No! Frank!'. Her voice was tinged with such desperation that Hyperia suddenly wished she had a chance to say goodbye to her friend. Then, the entire world dissolve into brimstone and fire all around.


	4. The return of the lone soldier

When Frank stumbled back to HQ after the assault, the sole survivor of the technically-successful mission, Stella dashed upstairs to find him. She couldn't believe what had happened; it had all been a blur. Was Frank really alive? Was Hyperia really dead, along with the rest of the team?Had KORPS really gone?

She rushed forwards to embrace him briefly, but after a moment he pulled her away and held her by the shoulders, as if examining her, making sure she was unhurt.

Frank was a complete mess. His hair and uniform were coated in dust from the explosion. There was a gash on his left cheek and several cuts on his hands, probably courtesy of the flying bits of metal from the explosion. But the sight that most distressed Stella was Frank's face. He wore a completely hollow expression and there were streaks of dirt on his cheeks where dust had settled onto tear tracks.

Stella wanted nothing more than to wipe away the past couple of hours from both their memories, to get Frank home and washed and rested. But protocol was protocol and Frank had to give her his full report first. She tugged him by the arm towards their office and passed him a cup of tea, but his hands were shaking so badly that she'd had to take it back and place it on the desk instead.

Chief Agent White walked past, just coming into work as the sunrise graced the horizon. He'd followed the entirety of events from a different base and knew exactly what had happened. He stuck his head into the office and his eyes met Stella's. She inclined her head in acknowledgement but did not speak. He saw her hands gently wipe away the dirt and grime from Frank's hand and face with a warm cloth, and he promptly ducked out again. It was probably best if Stella handled this herself first.

Frank's report held no new information for Stella, who had fathomed the turn of events from what she had heard through her earpiece. But hearing the words from Frank's lips seemed to add another layer of truth to the story, and Stella found herself reeling through a spiral of jumbled emotions. It had seemed unreal before, just a nightmare, but now the reality was hitting her hard. Hyperia was gone. Frank was in pieces.

 _Focus, Stella_ , she thought angrily. Frank needed her now. Boyfriend or not, Frank was a member of her team. She had led the team from the control room. She had to take care of him.

Stella was distressed to see that Frank's hollow expression hadn't changed. He was entirely spent; he didn't even flinch when she dabbed antiseptic lotion onto his injuries.

Once she had finished tending to his wounds, Stella cupped his cheeks with her hands and kissed him softly. 'It's all right,' she said, even though they both knew it wasn't.

'I'm sorry,' Frank said, in little more than whisper.

This was too much for Stella, who pulled him into a hug. It was as good a way as any to hide her face. She felt like crying, but there were no tears. The grief could come later. For now, she had her duty - to care for her agent and write up the report of the mission.


	5. A medal for bravery

The medal was hanging heavily from Frank's neck, the green ribbon rubbing his skin uncomfortably. White's spiel about bravery and sacrifice faded into a dull drone in the distance, and Frank's tired eyes didn't bother to focus properly so that the sea of faces in the room became a blurry mass. Maybe if he didn't look closely enough, some part of him could still believe that his team were seated in the room too, where they belonged. Hyperia would be smiling from the front row, ready to put on a air of solemnity as the time approached for her turn at the podium.

A smattering of applause brought Frank back the present. He tried to smile but his lips didn't seem to want to obey him. He didn't deserve this.

Frank blinked a few times and his vision refocused. The room was full of familiar faces - weathered, senior agents regarded him with a look of deep respect as they clapped politely; young trainees gazed up at him with a mix of worship and fear; and right at the front row, Stella, shining more brightly than ever. Frank couldn't tell what she was thinking; her expression held both pride and pity and - was he imagining it? - anger.

Frank felt his feet take him down the steps of the stage and back to his seat. He sat, the cold metal resting uncomfortably against his shirt.

Once White had dismissed everyone, many agents came up to shake Frank's hand and congratulate him, saying things like 'you did the right thing' and 'I don't think I could've had your resolve' and 'you're a hero, Frank'. Frank managed to twist his face into what he hoped was a dignified expression and thanked them each in turn.

Eventually, everyone had filed out of the room except Stella, who approached Frank nervously. She didn't know why she was nervous - this was still Frank after all.

'Congratulations,' she heard herself say. She reached forward and touched the medal, then suddenly retracted her hand as if it had shocked her. 'You deserve this,' her voice was saying.

Frank took a step forward and reached to grasp Stella's shoulder.

An irrational surge of anger suddenly seized her, and she took a half-step backwards.

'Stella?' Frank sounded both hurt and confused.

Stella wanted to step into his embrace, to let him hold her and talk freely of what he had experienced. She wanted to tell him about what it had been like for her, cooped up in the basement that was MI9 mission control, isolated and terrified with only a flimsy headset to let her know what was happening to the people whom she thought of as family.

But her legs suddenly felt like lead and she couldn't bring herself to hug him. 'I- I'm sorry,' she stammered, and, mustering as much dignity as she could, turned and left the room. She resisted the urge to run.

Startled by Stella's sudden change in behaviour, Frank stood alone in the room with a confused frown etched onto his features. 'Stella?' he said weakly. But she was long gone.


	6. Idleness is not bliss

As soon as the bulk of the reports and debriefs were complete, two weeks' compassionate leave was extended to all MI9 staff affected by the losses sustained at KORPS.

'Compulsory leave is not a thing!' Stella had protested.

But Chief Agent White was having none of it. 'You've been working 14-hour days, 7 days a week. You need to rest. You need time to grieve.'

'But-'

'No buts. You are to take two weeks' leave, and don't even think about sneaking back here to do other people's work.'

Stella didn't cope well with idleness. She locked in her apartment to avoid the temptation to go to work, and tried to keep busy. She rearranged her bookshelf - by author, by genre and then by the colour of the spines. She swept, mopped and vacuumed, made a full inventory of her pantry, cleaned the bathroom from top to bottom, watered the plants until they almost drowned, and rearranged her wardrobe several times over, in much the same way as she had done her books.

Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the images from her head - the cold, dark mission control room, the hard plastic eyepiece that she was pushing into her ear, and the voices. The voices were the worst - Frank shouting that this was the only way, Hyperia resolutely giving her blessing and Stella's own cry of dismay as, miles away, Frank hit that fateful red button.

Frank called, of course. Just once, or twice. Every hour.

Stella never picked up. Each time she heard Beethoven's 5th blasting through the house, she would drop whatever she was doing and rush over to her phone. She'd hold it for a moment, frozen, staring at the name on the screen 'Frank', as if she didn't know exactly who was calling. Every couple of times, her finger would even hover across the green receiver button. But every time, she failed to press it.

Eventually, on day 12 of the hell that was 'compulsory leave', Frank gave up. He texted instead.

Stella was rearranging her clothes by the alphabetical order of their country of manufacturer when she heard the distinct cowbell, her default notification tone. She hung up her top from Thailand next to the dress from Sweden, and reached for her phone.

 _Stella - hope you're feeling all right. I know you probably don't want to talk, but I figured you might like something to keep you busy. I'm organising memorial services for the team. Would you like to say something at Hyperia's? Please get back to me so I can schedule it in. Just a plain 'yes' or 'no' reply will do. Take care, Frank._

Stella felt her throat tighten and her heart rate increase a little. It was a familiar feeling now. But her eyes remained dry; she hadn't shed a single tear since the KORPS assault.

Of course Frank would organise a memorial service for Hyperia. There had been no bodies to bury after the KORPS base had been completely incinerated. No funerals. No closure. And of course Frank knew that having nothing to do was driving Stella insane; he knew her too well. A completely irrational surge of irritation consumed her - how pretentious of him to assume he knew what she was thinking? - and Stella groaned inwardly. These irrational flashes of blindingly strong emotion were becoming far too frequent lately. She had put it down to tiredness initially, in the few days following the assault when there was a tonne of clean-up work to do, but the random explosions of anger and frustration only became more and more frequent.

She spent the next half hour trying to figure out how to reply to Frank. Should she call him? She wouldn't know what to say. She'd text back, she decided. But she couldn't figure out what to type. A plain 'yes' seemed cold and ungrateful, but she couldn't bring herself to offer any kind words or even anything vaguely personal. That would require feeling affection of any sort, and it simply hurt too much.

Eventually, she went with: _Yes, I will speak at the memorial. It is a lovely idea. Hyperia would appreciate it._


	7. Lest we forget

Frank felt a surge of hope when his phone buzzed, but his heart plummeted when he read Stella's reply.

 _Hyperia_ _would appreciate it_. Not ' _I_ will appreciate it'. _Hyperia_ would appreciate it.

Frank shrugged aside his disappointment. Stella was thinking of Hyperia, even after she had left this earth. There wasn't time to be upset over Stella. Frank had a responsibility to do right by Hyperia, and there was much work to do to organise her memorial. He would ensure that she was forever remembered for her bravery, her strength and her love for others.

Flowers of all colours lined the benches of the tiny chapel. The room was packed to the brim with MI9 staff, dressed immaculately in black and clamouring to pay their respects. At the front, on a raised platform, was a framed picture of Hyperia from her early days in training, her bright smile lighting up the room even through the dusty glass.

Hyperia had been an orphan, with no family outside of MI9. Her work was also her home and her colleagues were her brothers and sisters. She had given everything for MI9 and the principles that she stood for.

Coming into the chapel, each attendee was given an origami rabbit. They had always been Hyperia's favourite animal. As they walked into the chapel, they went up to Hyperia's portrait and placed the rabbit beside her. Very soon, the framed picture was swimming in a sea of tiny paper rabbits.

Frank was seated in the front row, a few seats down from Stella. He looked over to her every now and then, but she always seemed to be looking to other way. The only time he managed to make eye contact was when he announced, 'Agent Stella Knight, a close friend of Hyperia's, will now say a few words.'

Stella's eyes met his only briefly, and he thought he saw a flash of confusion in her bright irises. But the next moment, it was gone, and she swallowed and made her way cautiously to the microphone.

'Hyperia was a great agent. She was brave, loyal, clever and always had a knack for raising morale. Her smile could light up any dull meeting. She lived her life to the full and threw all her heart into everything she did. We should be very proud of her.'

Stella paused and glanced around. Several people were wiping away tears already. She kept speaking, 'I met Hyperia on her first day in training. I was only a junior agent then, a year after qualifying, and I'd been called upon to help out with the new recruits. We were running a field exercise and I was assigned to supervise Hyperia's team. Under Hyperia's leadership, her team finished six and a half hours ahead of everyone else. She was truly exceptional.

But it isn't Hyperia's skills that I wanted to speak of today. We have no doubt that she was one of the brightest, bravest agents there ever was. No, today, I wanted to speak of Hyperia's heart, and share with you the times when I was lucky enough to experience her compassion and her friendship.

On that very same training exercise, I'd had an argument with one of the other junior supervisors.' Stella pointedly avoided eye contact with Frank, who had almost jumped up at this mention of him.

'I was a little disgruntled when I came to see the team and I regret to say that I was rather irritable towards them. While the rest of them groaned and swore under their breaths, Hyperia approached me, very subtly, and asked what was wrong.' Stella felt the words begin to choke in her throat. She swallowed again, then continued. 'You see, Hyperia saw right into me. She knew what I was feeling and she helped, even despite my rather rude behaviour. From then on, we became good friends and I relied on her, and, I like to think, she relied on me somewhat.'

Almost half the agents in the room were surreptitiously wiping away tears now. They all knew and loved Hyperia, and could easily relate to what Stella was saying.

'I could go on for weeks about Hyperia's kind heart and good soul. But I can almost hear her voice now.' Stella heard herself let out a bitter laugh as she said this. 'She'd say: "Oh, don't go on and on, Stella. We get your point - you're just trying to say that I'm brilliant!" It was so typical of Hyperia to bring joy into every situation, to diffuse the most sinister tension, to shake off the most brutal of insults. She was truly a beautiful soul and I know we will all miss her dearly.'

Stella's words were little more than croaks now - so tight were the muscles in her throat, and she felt as though a buffalo was crushing her chest. But her eyes remained dry as she stepped down from the platform and handed the stage back to Frank.

'Thank you, Stella,' Frank said, his voice a little hoarse. 'Now, you'll all probably remember that Hyperia, in all her wisdom and brilliance, was still an innocent child at heart sometimes. If you've ever asked her to join you on a coffee break, she'd always suggest grabbing an ice cream instead of a coffee. We're going to break up in a moment, but there will be ice cream at the rear of the chapel, just outside. Thank you all for coming.'

There was a flurry of movement as everyone stood up. Stella almost smiled at Frank's gesture with the ice cream. Hyperia would definitely appreciate it. Stella could almost picture her smiling face now, 'Well, if I'm dead I can't eat ice cream, so make sure to have one for me!'

So many stories involved Hyperia and ice cream. There was the time they messed up their Finnish nouns and ended up offending an ice cream vendor in Helsinki, and the time Hyperia convinced Frank that the ultimate date would be to take Stella to all the ice cream parlours in London, and that one time Hyperia managed to persuade Stella to join her on a prank, subsequently bailing and leaving Stella alone to carry twenty litres of ice cream into Horatio Stark's office.

Stella had been so caught up daydreaming about Hyperia and ice cream that she didn't notice Frank approach her.

'That was beautiful,' he said.

Stella felt an irrational twinge of annoyance. Then, she became even more annoyed that she was feeling annoyance. Her feelings were making no sense whatsoever.

'Hyperia deserved so much more,' she heard herself say. 'I wish I could have communicated telepathically so everyone here would know exactly how wonderful she was.'

Frank said something in reply, but Stella didn't hear him. She spotted a corner of green ribbon sticking out from Frank's jacket pocket and snatched it out. It was his medal for bravery.

'You've been carrying this around? You think you're a hero?' From the periphery of her vision, Stella spotted people staring at her. She must have been quite loud, but she didn't care. 'Hyperia is the hero, Frank! How can you carry around this medal like a trophy of her death?'

Frank had taken a half-step backwards at Stella's words, as if she had stabbed at him with a knife. His eyes were wide with shock and hurt, and he opened his mouth to speak but the words seemed to stick to the tip of his tongue.

'Stella, I didn't -. I wouldn't - . I keep it as a token of her sacrifice, to remember her!'

But Stella was already storming away.


	8. Back to workbut not together

It was Stella's turn to call incessantly and receive no reply.

Frank sat at his television with a strong cup of tea, staring blankly at the soccer players kicking that blasted ball aimlessly around the field while onlookers screamed with delight and outrage. Screaming over a leather ball. Not even leather - it was some plastic synthetic material. What had the world come to?

The phone lay on the coffee table, untouched. Every couple of hours, it would vibrate incessantly for a few minutes, accompanied by the lilting notes of the violin version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Hyperia had changed his ringtone when he wasn't looking during one incredibly boring equipment committee meeting, and Frank had never bothered to change it back. Even though he never moved to answer it, the sound was somewhat comforting, like Hyperia was still speaking to him. And Stella still cared.

Eventually, after his battery had been all but drained by all the phone calls, Frank tapped on his phone and listened to the voicemail. His heart contracted painfully as Stella's voice, sounding so pained and vulnerable, floated out of his phone, into his ear, and then deep into his heart.

'Frank. I- I understand that you don't want to speak to me. I just called to say - I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me lately. I can't imagine what you've been through, what you're going through. But right now...I can't help you. I'd only hurt you further. I'm sorry, Frank -' There was a crackle of static and what sounded like a choked sob. 'Goodbye, Frank.'

The eerie 'beep, beep, beep' of the dial tone echoed in Frank's head for days afterwards.

The day after Stella's two weeks' compassionate leave, or the 'fortnight in hell' as she called it in her head, Stella got to work at 7:30 in the morning. Unsurprisingly, Chief Agent White was already typing away at his desk, preparing some sort of report, but there were few other people in the room.

Stella found her in-tray positively flooded. There were all sorts of sympathy cards, the occasional pack of sweets and, right at the bottom, some paperwork for her to do.

For the first time in her life, Stella was thrilled at the sight of paperwork. She sat down and plunged straight into it. There was something strangely comforting about the black printed words, the way they lined up neatly on the page. Or perhaps it was just that they dulled the sensations, like anaesthetic, the rhythm of the words that lulled her into the false sense that everything was under control.

By the time Stella emerged from her paperwork, it was half past eleven. There were more people around now, either doing desk work or dashing around trying to organise fieldwork assignments. Stella's eyes darted around the room, but Frank was nowhere to be seen.

By three in the afternoon, there was still no sign of Frank. Unable to ignore his absence any longer, Stella reluctantly approached Chief Agent White for explanation.

'He didn't tell you?' White seemed shocked. 'He's been transferred. Further training, with the eventual goal of taking over the young team at St Hope's School. The MI High project.'

Stella felt a lump rise in her throat; it felt a little like a golf ball climbing up her trachea from her chest.

'I- I see. Thank you, sir,' she said. Then, before White could say another word, she turned on her heel and walked away.


	9. She still cares

Aside from fleeting, awkward glances when they passed each other in the MI9 building, the next time Frank and Stella saw each other was after the Dark Star fiasco, when a dangerous escaped criminal had gone after Frank on a personal vendetta.

To make matters worse, HQ had in fact warned Frank about the escapee, but the first Stella heard of it was when Stark mentioned it in passing, over a quick lunch before a meeting with the Defence minister.

'They were dressed up like cowboys from the American movies, and lassoed Frank in the school gym!' Horatio Stark chuckled.

Stella felt her blood run cold. Angrily, she grabbed Stark's collar and hissed into his shocked face, 'He could have been killed. And the way I've heard, there's plenty of your mishaps to laugh at too.'

Stark stumbled backwards when she released him, snatched his sandwich from the table and quickly hurried away, muttering to himself, 'Some people just can't take a joke.'

That afternoon, Stella dashed out of the meeting as soon as it had finished and jumped into her car to head over to St Hope's. As a senior agent working at HQ, she knew the locations of all MI9 bases in the area, though she had never personally visited the MI High project.

Frank was along in the base, meddling with his experiments when the hiss of the lifts alerted him to his visitor. He almost dropped his test tube when he saw Stella stride out of it, her dark hair billowing out behind her. His jaw dropped open; she was just as beautiful as ever.

'What is this I hear about a scuffle with an old enemy who just happens to be an escaped criminal?' Her voice was sharper than Frank had ever heard it before, and her eyes harder than he'd ever seen them. She'd changed.

'Well, he-'

Frank didn't have a chance to continue, because Stella went on, 'He attacked you, in the middle of the school, purged the place of lights and was ready to execute you! And HQ warned you! Why didn't you stay in the base and wait for the swat team?'

'I thought-'

'If it wasn't for your agents and that polarity inverter, you might not be standing there listening to this tirade!'

Stella stopped, a little breathless from speaking so fast. Her cheeks were flushed red and her eyes bright. Frank waited a moment, to check that Stella had finally finished before speaking.

'I just thought - it was personal. It was my battle to fight -'

'You idiot.'

Frank accepted this graciously. 'Yes, well. My team have been through that with me already. Second spy lesson of the day - know when you need help.'

Stella seemed a little taken aback by his calm. She hesitated a moment, and shifted awkwardly. 'But you're not hurt?'

After years of only polite colleague-to-colleague contact, Frank was startled to hear the concern in her voice, just as soft and loving as it had always been, even if it was harder to find.

'I'm fine, Stella,' Frank said. He looked at her carefully; she seemed to be shaking, whether with anger or relief, he could not tell. 'Are you all right?'

Stella's eyes widened for a split-second and she almost spilled everything to him - how worried she was every time he went on a mission, how worried she was when he lived life day-to-day without seeing her, how grateful she was that he was standing before her unharmed, how guilty she felt for the hurt she had caused him in the path, how helpless she felt for never being able to make amends...

But then she caught herself and switched on her defences again. She might have overdone it, because the next words that came from her mouth were cold and biting.

'I'm fine,' she snapped. 'Please be more careful in future.'

Then, as was becoming more and more of a habit, she turned and walked away as fast as she could, ignoring Frank's confused utterance: 'Stella?'


	10. Alexis von Hades

Note: Totally forgot about Alexis Von Hades. Thanks, J.4.5.M.1.N.3 !

The chains were cold and biting into Stella's wrists. Her shoulders ached from having her arms pulled behind her for so long, and she shivered in the cold of the cellar.

It was dark, and the only light in the windowless room came from a single flickering candle several metres from Stella, just out of reach. On the other side sat a hooded figure, cross-legged and still, unmoving. The flickering candle gave enough light for Stella to make out the redness of his cloak, but his face was shielded by his hood.

The only identifiable feature of the man was his voice. It was low and gravelly and he spoke with an unusually slow cadence, as if trying to maintain an air of mystery and intrigue. He succeeded.

'I wished to speak to you,' he said conversationally. 'As the Shadow Master, I was easily granted the privilege of a little one-on-one time with our prisoner.

'What made you interested in me?' Stella asked. Her tone was curious, without the slightest hint of fear. It wasn't just because she'd learnt to hide fear in training - she really wasn't worried. MI9 would get her out soon enough, and with any luck, take down a couple of KORPS henchman along the way. Maybe they could get rid of this Shadow Master bloke too.

The Shadow Master laughed, ans his low growl of a cackle echoed around the room. 'You do not know who I am, Agent Stella Knight?'

Stella frowned, not that the Shadow Master could see it. She was sitting too far from the candle for her eyebrows to be illuminated by the flame.

Stella blinked, and the Shadow Master had suddenly stood up and leapt across the candle until he was inches from her face. Still, the darkness of the room and his hood kept her from seeing his face.

'I am Alexis von Hades, Shadow Master of Skapula. Do you really not know who I am?'

Stella couldn't help it - she gasped. Hyperia had spoken of her brother. But she'd always made out that he was a common miscreant, doing drugs or laundering money or something petty. 'I still care about him,' Hyperia had said during a late-night chat when they were sharing a room on a mission. 'But MI9 is my family now. My brother has chosen his own path.'

'Ah, yes, now you realise who I am,' Alexis said, sounding satisfied. 'And I know who you are. I have always kept tabs on my sister. Her mentor. Her friend.' His voice was low, but it had lost some of its mysterious gravelly tone. He wasn't trying to put on airs - he simply did not want to be overheard.

'She loved you,' Stella said suddenly, not knowing why she said it. It was almost as though she was trying to something for Hyperia, by telling Alexis the words that Hyperia had never managed to get through.

Stella heard Alexis swallow and, in the blink of an eye, disappeared from view. She strained her neck trying to see him, but the room was too dark and the candle was casting too many shadows everywhere.

When Alexis spoke again, his voice was barely more than a whisper. No one outside of the room would have heard him, but the echoing effect of the stone walls meant that Stella caught every word.

'You have been my sister's friend and companion. KORPS wanted to kill you once information had been extract. I will set you free. But you must do one thing in return for me. Pass a message to Agent London.'

Stella's jaw dropped, but she made no sound.

'Tell him this: My sister was killed because of you. One day, I will kill you.'

Before Stella could react, there was a flurry of movement too fast for her eyes, which were already struggling in the dark, to make out. There was a click as the chains fell from her wrists. She grabbed the candle and held it up, trying to find the Shadow Master, but he was gone.

The room was smaller than Stella realised. The darkness had made the walls seem infinite, but it was really quite small. Using the light of the candle, Stella quickly found a large air vent in one corner. There was a note, written in invisible ink that was made visible by the candle.

'Remember. Tell London.'

Some part of Stella's brain was telling her to be cautious. The Shadow Master was the head of KORPS' assassin division, Skapula, one of the few parts of KORPS that MI9 was still at pains to dismantle even years after the assault on KORPS HQ. He was not to be trusted.

Yet some instinct in Stella told her that this was no trap. Alexis wanted that message - she shuddered to think of it - delivered. He would need her to escape to deliver it.

Stella clambered into the vent.


	11. You'd better tell Frank

'You did what?' Chief Agent White was debriefing Stella after the failed mission to dismantle what was left of Skapula.

Stella sighed. 'I went into the vent. And came out into the forest, not fifty metres from the rest of the MI9 team.

'He's the leader of all of Skapula's assassins! You trusted him?'

Stella sighed again. 'Honestly, I was dreading telling Frank all this. If this is what your reaction is, I have half a mind to just let him read the report.'

Once, Stella would never have spoken so casually to White. But times change and White had become more than just a superior, but a friend.

'No, no, you have to tell him. If Hyperia's brother wants to kill him, he ought to hear it from you,' White said quickly. 'Besides, I still think you and Frank-'

Stella groaned. 'Not now, sir, please!'

White held up his hands. 'All right, all right. I think we're done here, let's call Frank in.'

Not twenty minutes later, Frank came rushing up the stairs. Breathless, he pushed the door open and stumbled into the room.

Stella was seated at her desk, signing papers. Upon his clumsy entrance, she gestured to a spare seat and he sat down, still breathing fast.

'You're. Alive,' he panted. 'Thank. Goodness.' The relief was evident in his eyes.

'Yes, obviously, seeing as I called you in -' She glanced at her watch. '17 minutes ago.' Stella's eyes narrowed suspiciously. 'Did you speed on the way here?'

Frank waved aside her question. He'd managed to catch his breath now, and spoke softly and urgently. 'What happened? You were captured? Are you hurt?'

Stella almost smiled. Frank clearly hadn't changed at all. They had become such different people. Frank was always putting his morals and his feelings way up high on the priority list. Protocol, decorum and efficiency were much further down on this list. Stella, on the other hand, had built up the perfect defence mechanism against emotional hurt. Bury all the feelings and focus on the tasks and strategies. It worked a treat, or so she told herself.

'One question at a time, Frank,' Stella reprimanded, and Frank immediately closed his mouth; he had been about to ask more. 'As you know, the goal was to raid and capture as many Skapula agents as possible. But the intel was faulty and we were vastly outnumbered. I was at the rear of the party.'

Stella paused a little, remembering the utter terror of being grabbed from behind and dragged into a side corridor before something heavy hit her head and she lost consciousness.

'You were one of the most senior,' Frank said gently. Stella's discomfort did not go unnoticed. 'You protected your team by being at the rear, Stella.'

'Right,' she said, and quickly continued. 'They held me for a while. About a day, according to the team. Then the Shadow Master turned up for a chat. That is, Alexis von Hades turned up.'

If Frank had been holding anything, he would have dropped it. As it is, his jaw dropped almost to his chest at this revelation. 'Hyperia's brother is the Shadow Master?'

'Ex-Shadow Master,' Stella corrected. 'Not long after the event, he was captured out in Uttland. Outed by KORPS as a traitor, by the looks of it.'

'Right.' Frank waved this information aside. 'But what did he want with you?'

'He set me free,' Stella said. The incredulity in her voice was still apparent; she could barely believe it even now, days after the escape. Then her eyes darkened.

Frank caught sight of her changed expression, and frowned. 'And?' he hinted gently.

Stella shivered involuntarily. The room wasn't cold, especially compared to that stone-walled, candle-lit room, but every time she replayed Alexis von Hades' voice in her head she couldn't help but shudder at the malice in his every syllable. This man really wanted to kill Frank - the hate was all too apparent.

'He said - he said to pass a message on to you.'

'To me?'

'Yes, you. Oh, Frank - he blames you for Hyperia's death. He vows to kill you.' Stella said this very fast, as if it would soften the blow.

Frank took this information in slowly. Stella observed his face carefully, not bothering to keep the concern out of her eyes.

'Frank?'

'I'd better stay away from him then,' Frank said finally.

Stella waited for him to say more. When he didn't, she said, trying to sound reassuring, 'Well, given he's in a high security prison in some deep dark corner of Uttland, that's not going to be too hard to do.'

Frank seemed to shake himself awake from the tangle of thoughts in his mind. He blinked and shook his head a little. 'But he didn't hurt you?'

'Me?' She was a little taken aback. 'I'm fine.'

'It must have been very frightening. Shadow master and all.'

Not for the first time, Stella caught herself wanting to fall into Frank's arms and tell him everything - the cold of the metal against her wrists, the eerie flickering candle flame, that creepy way Alexis' voice echoed ominously in that room, and most of all, the mind numbing terror that crippled her every time she replayed Alexis' vow to kill Frank inside her head.

But Stella did indeed catch herself. 'I'm fine,' she said again.

'Right...' Frank sounded unconvinced. 'Well, if that's all...'

'It is,' Stella said with finality. 'You probably want to get back to your school.'

'What? Oh. Yes, yes, I had better...go...'

Frank sidled out the door, leaving Stella with her thoughts and paperwork.


	12. Taming temper

Frank couldn't help it. Before he knew it, he'd clenched his right hand into a fist and delivered the best punch of his life.

 _About ten minutes earlier_

'The fact remains that the ex-Shadow Master, and all the information he could give us, is now being held in a high security prison in Uttland.' Chief Agent White was saying. 'So we must make a decision. Do we act now and try to bring him in, hoping that he will cooperate, for the sake of his sister's memory or otherwise? Or do we leave him with the Uttlandish for now?'

There was a snort from the far end of the table. Stark.

About a dozen highly ranked MI9 agents were seated in the meeting. The room was well-lit, and decked with a standard oblong table with the highest ranked agents, including White, at the head and going down in order of rank. There were several plugs on the surface of the table, where the agents plugged in their spypods for easy access to relevant data.

Frank wasn't usually in these HQ planning meetings, but given that von Hades had vowed to kill him, White had invited him to this one. He's also been seated right opposite the table from Stella, which was proving very distracting.

'Something to say, Agent Stark?'

Stark, naturally, spoke up at once. 'Perhaps you ought to ask Agent Knight, sir. After all, if she wasn't making friends with the man, he might've been captured by our team.'

Frank almost jumped out of his seat in protest, but a stern look from Stella put a halt to any thoughts of rash behaviour.

Stella spoke calmly and steadily, not at all thrown by Stark's comment. 'With respect, I was chained up and about to be tortured for information.' Frank detected a tiny quaver as she said this, but she hid it well and no one else seemed to have caught it. 'And so,' Stella continued, 'I do not believe your statement is accurate or relevant.'

'Right, let's move on,' said White quickly, 'Now who thinks-'

'But sir!' Stark was persistant. 'The truth is that if Frank hadn't gotten his sister killed, he wouldn't have wanted to kill Frank, wouldn't have set Stella free so she could pass on the message, and we might've captured him.'

Even disregarding Stark's blatant tactlessness bordering defamation, no one in the room seemed to be able to fathom the logic behind Stark's claim. They all wore expressions of confusion, discomfort or, in Frank's case, anger.

'Agent Stark-'

'I mean, maybe if Frank wasn't in love with Stella, von Hades wouldn't have found the whole thing so amusing in the first place. Really, dunno what he sees in her these days. She's a right old-'

But exactly what Stark was about to say, they would never know. In about two steps, in the time it took Stella to stand and cover her mouth in shock, Frank had crossed over to Stark. He couldn't help it. Before he knew it, he'd clenched his right hand into a fist and delivered the best punch of his life.

Stark was knocked clean out of his seat and fell onto the carpet in a daze.

'Enough!' White was up standing. 'Dismissed! We'll resume later. Knight, London, Stark, I want to see you in my office once you are...treated for your injuries.'

Frank wrung his right hand. His knuckles were sore.

'Come on,' Stella grabbed Frank's arm and dragged him out of the room. The sooner they got away from Stark, the better.


	13. Time for change

Frank hissed in pain as the ice pack touched his inflamed knuckles.

'Stay still!' Stella reprimanded. She was seated next to him on the couch in the tea room, trying to reduce the pain in Frank's hand. It was already very much swollen and was quickly becoming the shade of a tomato.

Stella's fingers were gentle and agile, just the way Frank remembered them. He used to get a lot of injuries during training. It was very tempting not to bother preventing them when the post-injury treatment was so enjoyable.

Her eyes scanned his hand as she examined it carefully, applying the ice and wiping away flecks of Stark's blood with a damp cloth. His skin was tougher than it had been, calloused from all the caretaker work he did and dirt had caked under his nails, probably from his latest flowerbed weeding or something.

While Stella's eyes looked over Frank's hand, Frank's eyes were not looking down at their hands, but at Stella's face. He hadn't seen her close up like this in a very long time. He gazed at her longing, noting the way her eye lashes batted when she blinked, the way her lips flickered into a brief smile - what was she thinking?- then back into that caring, concerned expression that always tugged at his heartstrings, and the way those few flyaway strands of hair would escape her bun and fall on either side of her face.

Frank reached out now with his uninjured hand and tucked them behind her ear. His touch lingered on her cheek for the briefest moment and she finally looked up at him, their eyes meeting.

There was a long moment as they held each other's gaze, but they were interrupted by a meaningful cough. It was Stark, who'd cleaned up as best as possible but still looked a mess with bits of tissue stuffed into his nostrils. Frank must have punched pretty hard if he was still bleeding.

'White wants us in his office now,' Stark said, not meeting their eyes.

They both stood, Stella still holding the ice pack to Frank's hand, and followed Stark out of the tea room.

White was waiting in his office when they arrived, and all three of them began speaking at once, like naughty children called to the principal's office.

'I didn't-'

'I only-'

'Sir, Frank just-'

White held up a hand to call for silence and they all stopped speaking.

'I was going to wait until after the von Hades stuff was decided to announce this, but, well...' He looked at them all pointedly. They dropped their gazes sheepishly. 'Anyway, there's been some reshuffling of roles over here, and one particular change that is likely to affect all three of you.'

They perked up at this. This was news, and it could either be very good news or very bad news. While Stark and Stella both awaited White's next words eagerly, Frank was thoroughly confused. He worked with the MI High project - what changes at HQ could possibly affect him.

'Stella.' White was using first names. That meant something big was happening. 'You will be taking over command of many operations, including the MI High team. Frank, you will report to Stella.'

Both Frank and Stella disguised their mixed feelings towards this very well. They chorused 'Yes, sir' while keeping their expressions neutral.

Frank was both pleased and worried. Working with Stella meant spending more time with her, and even despite the tension between them, extra time with Stella was always a bonus in Frank's book. But it would also make for much awkward conversation, and he'd really have to watch his step. In addition to not getting into trouble, he didn't want to ruin whatever slim chance he had with her.

Stella didn't know how she felt about the whole thing. Taking over operations meant promotion, so she should probably be pleased. Working with Frank...she couldn't deny caring for him, even after all these years. But she couldn't get too close, not to anyone, especially Frank.

Stark, on the other hand, was thoroughly annoyed. 'So what am I to do?' he retorted.

White sighed. 'You'll be temporarily assigned as staff on Unit Alpha.'

'Blane and Daisy?' said Frank, unable to help himself.

'Training kids?!' Stark cried, aghast.

'Yes, yes,' White said calmly. 'The training unit. Highly successful.'

'Yes, sir,' Stark said stiffly.

'Excellent,' White said. 'We'll have proper briefings later. Just wanted to let you know. Now go sort out what it is between the lot of you.'

He waved them out the door and Stark went running away from Frank as fast as he could, as if he was afraid Frank would punch him again.

Stella and Frank exchanged an amused look. Working together with the new MI High team would be...interesting.


End file.
